


Into The Woods

by CrossedBeams



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Ficlets, Fluff, Humour, My Immortal quote challenge, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-20 10:07:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8245277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrossedBeams/pseuds/CrossedBeams
Summary: I received a October Fic Fest prompt to write something for TXF including a quote from the infamous My Immortal fanfic. I had planned to write something cracky and funny but this happened instead. Post FTF this is humorous, UST>RST, fluffy funny fare. Well I hope so anyway!





	

Scully’s not sure what the hell Mulder was thinking when he dropped the thick manila folder on her desk. In fact, she’s not sure what he’s been thinking at all these past few days. They arrived back from Antarctica battered but united, walked through the park hand in hand and she’s been waiting for an encore to that interrupted hallway kiss ever since. Thankfully she was smart enough not to hold her breath for it or she’d have expired some time ago.

Instead of romantic overtures or just some straight-up release of five years worth of sexual tension she’s had two weeks of bored, irritating Mulder. In the rumpus of the bullpen he’s become adept at dropping her questioning gazes into silence, avoiding being alone with her and resorted to sending increasingly bizarre urban legends to her for “appraisal”, filling her time with one wild goose chase after another as they await reassignment to the newly re-opened X-Files. 

This particular folder had landed at the end of an especially frustrating Friday, the weighty thunk of it’s arrival adding insult to the injury that was Mulder’s accompanying sideways glance. She’d wearily asked what it was this time, expecting the usual challenging shrug and instead been greeted with a new Mulder look. Somewhere between guilt and mischief, it kick starts an immediate pulse between her legs which is just as quickly crushed by his rapid exit from the room. Scully drops her forehead to the desk and attempts to knock some of that strict rationale back into herself by the proven scientific method of gently slamming her head against the backs of her hands.

‘Jeez Scully!’. Mulder returns, just in time to witness her dramatic turn, amusement playing with the full curve of his lower lip and she gives him her best sarcastic eyebrow as she tries to pull herself together.

‘What is it now Mulder? More killer trees? A last minute autopsy or three? Or a new report on invisible goddamn beehives?’ She loads each question with sarcasm, poinst them at him and shoots, gratified that he at least looks surprised by the bitterness of her tone.

‘I was just going to ask if you could give me a ride home.’ He mutters, ‘But I can ask…’.

‘It’s fine.’ She cuts him off. I’m leaving at six. Not a minute before so don’t show up here at 5:30 and complain that it’s Friday and that nobody cares because I do.’ With that she turns her attention back to the file and refuses to look at him as he shuffles out, muttering something about her being such a damn prep.

* * *

_30 minutes later…._

What. The. Fuck.

Scully skims through page after page looking for some shred of a case among the insanity riddled ridicule of the English language that Mulder has, for some utterly incomprehensible reason, printed out and given to her. As far as she can make out it’s the worst story she’s ever read, apparently in some way to do with vampires but really about nothing at-fucking-all. It’s bizarrely compelling, the utter disregard for sentence structure or consistency reminiscent of some of Mulder’s more rushed reports but it is in no way an X-File. It’s hardly even a file, more a collection of random words and upsettingly imagined “sex” scenes rolled together into something that looks only slightly like a story.

She is going to kill Mulder for this.

Especially when she realises the relevance of his passing comment about her being a “prep”. The asshole knew _exactly_ what he was handing her and wasted her time anyway.

Scully pushes her chair back, ready, to storm through the bullpen and give Mulder what-for, other agents be damned. Until she remembers that look on his face, the guilty, mischievous one. And she sits back down.

He wanted a reaction.

Well he can wait for it.

Dana Scully is on the warpath and she intends to walk away the victor. She turns another page

* * *

_6:01 PM._

Mulder arrives at her desk with the tentative gait of a puppy that has done a bad thing and is unsure if it’s going to be petted or yelled at. Scully ignores him. Closing down her computer and gathering her belongings she leads the way to the parking garage without a word, feeling rather than seeing Mulder’s uncertainty grow. He folds himself into the passenger seat and crosses his arms, occasionally drawing breath as if to start asking a question before changing his mind. Instead he fidgets in his seat, casting increasingly frequent glances across at his apparently serenely focused partner.

The streets of Washington flash by and the silence thickens.

Scully drives and Mulder sweats, the unacknowledged manila folder riding in the backseat like an awkward hitchhiker. In the half-light. Mulder can’t see the only sign that Scully is less peaceful than she appears, the subtle clenching and unclenching of her jaw behind the auburn curve of her hair as she bites back her amusement.

It takes exactly 13 minutes for him to crack. 

‘DidyoureadthefileScully?’ Mulder’s words trip over each other on a hurry to get out before he changes his mind.

Scully nods slowly. 

She still says nothing, though the corner of her mouth furthest from him is rebelliously curving into a smile, fighting against her steely control.

Her apparent non-reaction resets the silence but not for long.

‘Scully! For god’s sake! Say something? If you’re mad at me I’m so sorry! I… I just missed our joking - you know like on the roof in Texas, we’ve been so serious and, well… I thought it was kinda funny. The gunmen found it when they were sweeping online forums for paranormal cases and… well it’s so bad! We read it over a few beers last night and… well I just thought maybe… shit Scully. I’m so sorry! It was a stupid idea. Can you just let me out here and then maybe reverse the car over me?’

Mulder tails off, desperate, leaning as far forward as he can in an attempt to make eye contact but succeeding only in cracking his head on the windshield. Scully smirks ever so slightly and then clicks the indicator, taking the wrong turning, abandoning the well worn path to Mulder’s door and peeling off the parkway towards the Washington Marina.

‘Scully I was joking - please don’t dump me in the forest!’ and this time she does laugh, turning once again to pull up in a small, tree-lined parking lot and cutting the engine.

‘Out you get Mulder.’ Somehow Scully still keeps her tone even though her pulse is now racing in her neck, thrilling at her daring, at how well she’s kept her usually collected partner on edge and watching his mad scramble to obey her.

She gets out too, leaving the headlamps on to light the gathering night and starts walking towards the treeline. Quick steps catch up to her and Mulder’s hand is on her arm. 

‘Scully! What the hell is going on! Scully!’ he sounds desperate now and finally drags them to a halt just as they step off the asphalt and into the carpet of fallen needles.

‘That’s not the right line’, Scully whispers, finally meeting his eyes and letting the wicked humour of her prank dance across her features. Mulder regards her blankly, mind racing to connect the dots and falling short.

‘Scully - I… what?’.

She grins now, the thrill of winning, of finally, thoroughly throwing him off balance lighting her face and loosening her shoulders.She has him big time. Scully steps back slowly, until her face is in shadow and on a deep breath throws down the gauntlet.

‘The correct line, Mulder, is “What the fuck do you think you’re doing”. 

And the realisation hits him, pupils melting into something dark and dreamy even in the dim light. He takes a tentative step towards her, And another. Surer this time until only an arms length separates them. And then his arm is measuring the space, his hand ever-gentle against her hair and he mouths the word ‘Ebony?’, the remnants of uncertainty smouldering to nothing as the air between them grows electric and ignites.

Scully shakes her head, leaning into his touch. 

‘No. Still Scully. I prefer foxes to dragons you see’ and then she doesn’t have the air to speak because his lips are on hers, hungry and hot in the cool air and backing her roughly into the darkness until they find something solid to brace against. A tree probably, it barely registers in her mind, so overwhelming is the soft of his tongue and the of hard his body, the sweetness of her taste and the salt of her daring. There is something brutal about it all, something instinctive unleashed here in this unknown forest, a question answered with searing, startling honestly. Mulder isn’t quite sure when his pants got undone or how his hands came to be pressed between the coarse bark of the tree and the velveteen heaven of Scully’s half-covered ass. She feels it too, surprised that she’s not surprised to find her blouse open and Mulder’s mouth inside it, worrying the cups of her bra, questing for a front clasp that is infuriatingly not there. But it doesn’t matter, there will be time for that later and she pulls his head up, setting her teeth to his neck, making her own vampire mark on the smooth flesh under his collar and briefly toying with his shirt buttons before being drawn south to where her legs are tugging his hardness ever closer to where she wants him.

It’s awkward from this angle, her weight an obstacle as she tries to free his cock and push aside the last few barriers, her panties, his boxers, without letting a thing between them. Not even light. Not even air. It is time.

Mulder groans when she finally finds a way, howls when he is free and for a few blissful seconds there is only skin and sensation. A pinch of adjustment and then stillness. Her eyes are starry against his darkness, neither of them moving as yet another trip to the forest becomes the first trip to somewhere new and wonderful.

Humour is forgotten. Location too and as they begin to move, careful as they navigate this new ground, mapping every new sound and sigh, it seems inevitable that a ridiculous tale and a reckless trip has led them to this long awaited destination. As sensation builds sound comes back, his a gathering hum of satisfaction and hers the brittle, breaking sounds of walls crumbling and control being surrendered. 

Lost in each other, in the gathering rhythm of them finally as one, instead of two, neither of them notice the KC lights of the truck that pulls into the lot behind their abandoned car. The sound of the door slamming is lost in Scully’s wanton moan as she slips slightly and the new angle and husk of the tree bark add a delicious twist of pleasure pain to the heady cocktail of sensation. Mulder sees the flashlight illuminate them from behind, but in his ecstatic state rationalises it as some sort of heavenly intervention. It seems perfectly reasonable to him that this is paradise, that Scully gasping and slickening around him is as close as he could ever get to nirvana, so he doesn’t question the halo of light that catches the wayward strands of her hair and makes them glow bronze in the darkness

All is ecstasy, gathering pleasure and then - i

**‘What the hell are you doing you motherfuckers!!!’**

The park ranger’s face is shadowed by his cap, and despite his irreverent interruption, his face is averted. He knows _exactly_ what they were doing, exactly why Mulder is pushing Scully behind him for cover as her hands fly from his hair to conceal he body The half moon of Mulder’s naked ass is rapidly eclipsed by his pants returning to their place and after a few seconds he turns into the light, readying his excuses and finding instead the ranger is walking away,deeper into the tree, talking clearly to nobody in particular.

‘Did I hear a disturbance over here? Why I think I did. If I go check this out I’m sure there’ll be no more cars with FBI plates  in the lot when I get back. Nobody out here but me and a few owls… ‘ he tosses his head towards the parking lot and they scramble for the car. The ranger chuckles as he hears the engine start up and tear away, ‘Haven’t young people these days heard of motels?’

The next morning finds Dana Scully’s car still parked outside Fox Mulder’s apartment, the back seat littered with sheets of printed paper, scattered by a high speed drive back to Alexandria from a nearby parking lot. Caught under the drivers seat is the title sheet. ‘ _My Immortal - the most notoriously bad fan-fiction ever written’_ while upstairs sleeps proof that good things can begin in the most unlikely places.


End file.
